December 15th **Trigger warning for domestic violence**

Little did I know what was in store for me just hours after posting this. 

I woke up at 2am this morning. Slightly confused, which would be expected at such a time, and I pulled my phone off my bureau. As Marconi Union - Weightless still played, I looked at the time. I didn't want to put my head back down on my pillow, but I didn't want to be up for the day, so I flipped through my Facebook memories. The first to pop up was from 2 years ago. As benign as it may seem, I had no idea the fear I'd be experiencing mere hours after I had posted this. The receiving end of a drunken tirade included death threats against myself and my family, being screamed at while driving was only the beginning. Once we were at his parent's place, although everyone was sound asleep inside, I thought the worst was over. 

I was wrong. 

The shoving, and pushing.. he held me down. Squeezing my arms and legs to hold me from leaving, I grasped my keys for dear life. The keys were freedom to leave, and nestled between my fingers, could potentially fight him off. But I let my guard down, and put my keys back on my bag, only to then be thrown against the bed and the wall and hit again. 

A memory still fresh although 2 years old. Today, I needed this reminder as to why I needed to continue to fight.

My lawyer and I assumed we'd have to take a continuance since he couldn't be formally served paperwork without an address. Luckily, I had emailed him the scanned documents, so he would be fresh out of excuses. But he's Leo, and he's never without an excuse, regardless how hypocritical it is. He called the courthouse yesterday to confirm the hearing, to which my lawyer told me that it is 'go time'. With the possibility of him still not showing today, we took no chance and showed up for 12:30. Apparently Tuesday afternoons are 'PFA hearings', because the lobby was full. The lawyers chatted, as did the New Hope For Women liaison. So many women were there. So many cases of abuse stood before me. Each story, I'm sure, just as painful as the next.

Just then he shows his face. My lawyer made her way over to him. She talked with him for a moment, as she got him to follow her to the clerks window to be formally served paperwork. He whined and complained, made excuses but I only heard mumbles and the twang false sweet tones of his voice as he tried to charm her. Luckily she is impervious to his charm. If I could have said the same oh so long ago.

A few cases were heard first. One woman made pleas of safety from her abuser. Unable to locate the other party, you could hear the fear in her voice. I wanted to hold her. I wanted to hug her. I wanted to protect her, but I couldn't. My lawyer and I sat quietly as she stumbled through questions to the judge. The next case was quick, and agreed to meet outside to discuss an agreement. He called out my name. "Kali Dionne" I heard Leo snicker since I still have my ex husband's last name. My laziness in changing my name had once pissed him off, and at that moment, I went with it. The judge stated he had reviewed our case, and that the defendant was aware of the hearing, although being just served twenty minutes prior. The judge figured we could work out an agreement to which my lawyer stated that we will talk to him outside. He then piped up and asked to address the judge himself. The judge obliged. The narcissistic bullshit oozed from his voice and wafted over the courtroom. The judge started talking, unbothered by the hypocrisy to which Leo was trying to grasp at. Quite unsure if Leo is dumb, daft, stupid or brave, he decided to talk over the judge. Not once, but twice. "I know you like to talk to hear only yourself, but I suggest you listen to me, because what I have to say is important." Needless to say, as being the judge and the second time someone in 15 minutes had overtalked him, his patience was already waning. We were dismissed to the hallway to discuss options. My lawyer, Leo and his girlfriend chatted while I stood off to the side. You know, PFA is still active and all. 

I heard him try to make invalid excuse after another. Claims that I've emailed him repeatedly and texted him just as frequently for months. My saint lawyer took each deflection as it was, maintained being a straight shooter, and directed the conversation. It was beautiful. It was poetic. It was quick. We found our way back into the courtroom, only this time it was only the 4 of us. I felt at peace. I had an upper hand, for I wasn't the one treading dangerous ground with both a lawyer AND the judge. I was there at this point to receive money, and guide the actions to be taken. The judge returned from his chambers to the courtroom. He talked about time needed, since Leo decided to chime in with whining of lack of employment. I admit I zoned out. There was something about the time that had already passed (8 months), and that he was already granted 6 months to pay. But yet he wanted more. 3 more months to be exact before we were to go before the judge again. Unfortunately for me, the clerk stated the earliest hearing date was Feb 16th, which my lawyer and the judge considered. We initially were going with a month to pay the restitution. We agreed to set the hearing for Feb 16th, which granted him two months. He then stated he wanted 90 days. 

no. no. NO. N.O. 

The judge looked to my lawyer, then to me, as she did the same. The ball was in my court. I had hardly spoken a word, but this was my time. "6 months was granted. Another 2 as of now, and another 3 leaves us at nearly a year. I'm not giving him more time." My lawyer stated "Feb 16th it is then". The judge then decided to throw a cautionary tale Leo's way and 'strongly, strongly' suggested to get this paid before the next hearing because he is not liable for the next judge's decision, and to keep in mind that the attorney's fees will be included. 

You could hear a pin drop. I don't know if the next sound that came from Leo was the actual sound of him shitting a pickle or a feeble attempt at an apology for over talking the judge. My lawyer and I chatted for a moment, relished in the fact I got $50 cash that day, and since the clerk served him, there were no fees. 

Two years ago he physically hit me. Tore me down. Emotionally abused me. Today, his actions caught up to him. Today all I had to do was to stand tall, give him the 'Kali's annoyed' look, and made sure I held him to a hard line. 

Not many other women today got the same results. I don't know the stats on the increase of local domestic violence cases since Covid started, but the packed court room was telling as fuck. 

When will the abuse end? How many other women will need to suffer at his hand? I know that Chelsea has already suffered, for the woman I saw today did not look like the woman I saw back in April. Neither of them did. He looked bloated and tired. Has the yo-yo dieting finally caught up to him, or is it the alcoholism? Has she met the same fate? I speculate, but if he was legitimately on the wagon at any point this year, it has left him high and dry at this point. The deterioration of mind, body, and spirit is there. It's present. It's telling. But that's his to sort out, because I'm okay. I'm better than okay. 

                                                                  He surely cannot say the same 

This gives us neither truth nor knowledge. Naturally, he'd gravitate towards this song.